It isn’t the informed voters who steer this country—God, I wish it were. No, it’s the ones who are swayed by the biggest lies, the ones who lap up half-truths like they’re starving for more, their minds twisted and bent like wire. I’ve heard people say they’ve been brainwashed, but hell, they’d need a brain to wash first.
I’ve spent years wondering if there was something wrong with me for not understanding their side. Their anger, their hate—it’s everywhere. I watch it pour out of them like poison, but I can’t grasp it. Is it me? Am I missing something, something that should make sense of the madness? But then I look deeper, and all I see is falsehood. Lies, designed like a sleight of hand, like a magician in the street who gets the crowd to look at his left hand while his right steals their wallet. That’s how it works, isn’t it? Misdirection.
And there he is, the politician, standing on his stage like a master illusionist. His lies flow like honey, and the crowd eats them up, desperate for more. He doesn’t care about them—he never did. He just wants their anger, their hatred, their blind loyalty. He’s feeding it, stoking it, twisting it until they can’t see what’s real. They’re not people to him. They’re tools. And once he has what he wants, once he’s wrapped his fingers around that power, he’ll never let go. He’ll crush anyone who stands in his way, grind them under his boot like an insect.
I can’t help but think of Percy Bysshe Shelley’s poem, “Ozymandias.” A king who thought he’d rule forever. “Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!” But in the end, all that was left was dust. Time takes everything.
And we, we’re not a nation of kings. This is a land of the people—of many, bound together by the hope of something better. It isn’t about one man. It never was. It is about us, all of us. This election, we better remember that.
It isn’t the informed voters who steer this country—God, I wish it were. No, it’s the ones who are swayed by the biggest lies, the ones who lap up half-truths like they’re starving for more, their minds twisted and bent like wire. I’ve heard people say they’ve been brainwashed, but hell, they’d need a brain to wash first.
I’ve spent years wondering if there was something wrong with me for not understanding their side. Their anger, their hate—it’s everywhere. I watch it pour out of them like poison, but I can’t grasp it. Is it me? Am I missing something, something that should make sense of the madness? But then I look deeper, and all I see is falsehood. Lies, designed like a sleight of hand, like a magician in the street who gets the crowd to look at his left hand while his right steals their wallet. That’s how it works, isn’t it? Misdirection.
And there he is, the politician, standing on his stage like a master illusionist. His lies flow like honey, and the crowd eats them up, desperate for more. He doesn’t care about them—he never did. He just wants their anger, their hatred, their blind loyalty. He’s feeding it, stoking it, twisting it until they can’t see what’s real. They’re not people to him. They’re tools. And once he has what he wants, once he’s wrapped his fingers around that power, he’ll never let go. He’ll crush anyone who stands in his way, grind them under his boot like an insect.
I can’t help but think of Percy Bysshe Shelley’s poem, “Ozymandias.” A king who thought he’d rule forever. “Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!” But in the end, all that was left was dust. Time takes everything.
And we, we’re not a nation of kings. This is a land of the people—of many, bound together by the hope of something better. It isn’t about one man. It never was. It is about us, all of us. This election, we better remember that.